


Morning Light

by Mercedes_Watson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John, post case shagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercedes_Watson/pseuds/Mercedes_Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t much. A few punches thrown (John’s gun has been spent during the earlier shootout), some grappling and then a wrist lock that ended up dislocating the man’s shoulder (John wasn’t sorry).</p>
<p>It was more than enough for Sherlock though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this NOT SAFE FOR WORK, 100% PORN gif](http://25.media.tumblr.com/45715ce79067574ffe40956e9559435e/tumblr_mmv60rlH891qhhzvyo1_500.gif). Seriously, it's straight up porn. Don't click it and then be surprised it's two dudes going at it. I mean, look at what it inspired. If you follow me on tumblr, then you've probably already (mostly) seen this. This is just the not-written-and-posted-to-tumblr-in-45-minutes version of it. 
> 
> Not brit-picked (though there's not much talking going on anyways...) and I was my own beta, so any mistakes are mine

 

It was so late when they finally made it back to Baker Street that it was actually mid-morning. Quick case, landing in their laps only yesterday afternoon, but thrilling nonetheless. It had everything, really: murder, illicit affair, and a culprit desperate not to get caught lest he lose everything. Unfortunately desperate culprits often made for stupid and violent culprits. When that desperate, stupid violence had been aimed at Sherlock, John had acted.

 

It wasn’t much. A few punches thrown (John’s gun has been spent during the earlier shootout), some grappling and then a wrist lock that ended up dislocating the man’s shoulder (John wasn’t sorry).

 

It was more than enough for Sherlock though.

 

John stumbled back from the force with which Sherlock crashed into him, teeth clicking together from the way Sherlock was practically attacking his mouth with his own.

 

“Take it—take it easy, will you?” John grunted, throwing one hand out of brace himself against the desk as Sherlock pressed his face into his neck, fingers already under his shirt.

 

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

 

John huffed amusedly, “I would if you get out of my bloody way.”

 

Sherlock backed off immediately and began quickly undoing the buttons of his suit jacket and button-down underneath that. John just simply shucked his own shirt off over his head and watched with a thrill of anticipation going through him at the sight of those nimble fingers exposing inch after inch of perfect pale skin.

 

Soon as Sherlock’s shirt was on the floor next to John’s, they were at each other again, arms wrapping tightly around each other, their heavy breathing through their noses loud in the mid-morning quiet of the sitting room.

 

“Do you have…any idea…” Sherlock began kissing a path that took him over John’s John’s jaw and neck and ended by his ear, “how _insanely_ arousing you are when you get aggressive?” He punctuated his sentence with a bite to his ear lobe.

 

“Is that why you’re such a prat all the time?”” John panted, now leaned back against the desk with both hands braced behind him.

 

“Possibly.” Sherlock’s hand trailed down John’s body as he kissed a path around to the other side of John’s neck. “I want you inside me,” he breathed, voice low and dulcet with desire, palming John’s erection through his trousers. “I want you to fuck me ‘til I scream.”

 

John exhaled a weak-sounding moan before he wrapped his arms around Sherlock and threw him to the floor, in the patch of sunlight from one of the sitting room windows. He hovered over him for a moment, arms and legs caging Sherlock in, drinking in how the morning sunlight illuminated his skin and shone off of his curls.

 

“John?”

 

He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips to Sherlock’s with gusto, sucking on that lush bottom lip of his before slipping his tongue into his mouth. Their hands went to each others’ flies, fumbling with buttons and pulling down pants until—

 

“Oh _yes_!” John groaned at the feel of their cocks finally sliding together. Sherlock kicked his hips up as he worked their cocks together with one hand. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and flipped them over so John was on his back. He skimmed his hands down that lovely lithe body of his and they were just near their destination when Sherlock pulled away and John could see the question written on his face before he even opened his mouth to speak. John’s hands just kept on going until he was able to skim the pad of his middle finger over Sherlock’s hole, causing his eyes to go wide and his breathing to hitch.

 

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, right?”

 

“Yes, but you on top.”

 

“Either way we’ll need condoms and lube.”

 

Sherlock merely sat back on John’s thighs and straightened himself up, opening one of the drawers to the desk.

 

“You planned this, didn’t you?”

 

“It’s best to be prepared for all possible situations.” Sherlock set the bottle of lube and box of condoms off to the side before settling himself back over John for another kiss. John let it go for a few moments, drawing Sherlock’s lip between his teeth and pulling on it as he pulled away. He licked his lips as he watched it snap back into place. “On your hands and knees.”

 

Sherlock wordlessly complied, John grabbing the lube and settling himself behind him, sun warming his bare skin. He slicked his fingers and set about preparing Sherlock, his moans and cries as he was fingered music to John’s ears.

 

“John, please,” Sherlock was down on his forearms already, sweated brow pressed to the rug. John put the condom on and slicked him self again, lining up with Sherlock’s hole.

 

It was a slow sweet slide, one that had John’s eyes drawn tightly shut against it all. “Alright?” he asked once he was all the way in.

 

“Harder, deeper, faster,” Sherlock moaned into the rug.

 

_Fucking prat_ John thought, nudging Sherlock’s thighs apart even farther. He braced one hand on the floor by Sherlock’s hip and interlaced the other one with Sherlock’s hand which was clenched tightly on the floor by his shoulder.

 

John drew himself almost all the way out before pressing back in as deep as he could go, a cry leaving his lips at the sensation of being fully seated inside of Sherlock. He did it again, and again and again until he had set up a rhythm, not fast but not slow either. Sherlock was undulating under him, moaning with each stroke of his cock into his body.

 

“Oh God, John.”

 

He was a fucking vision with the sunlight in his hair and the sweat on his brow. John watched, enraptured as the shadows cast by the window shifted and flowed over his body as he writhed beneath him. He was fucking perfect and so tight and hot and God, the feeling of that luscious arse of his rubbing against his hips… “Oh Sherlock!”

 

“More,” Sherlock pleaded, the knuckles of his hand squeezing John’s fingers as he clenched his hands into the pile of the rug. “Faster.”

 

The look of him, spread on the floor before him, begging for more… “Oh God”

 

“ _John_.” This time it was a frustrated whine.

 

He stopped thrusting. “I need to—“

 

“I don’t care, just do it!”

 

John straightened and settled his hands on Sherlock’s hips. He started a fast brutal pace, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. Sherlock let his satisfaction with the change in pace be known with a loud groan and the way arched his back and threw back his head. He was practically shouting now, calling John’s name out and cursing, obviously so far gone that he didn’t care who heard him.

 

“John! John! _John_!” The last iteration of his name dissolved into a deep groan as Sherlock came, John still pounding into him. Sherlock’s body clenched around him with each pulse of his orgasm. John made some sot of noise but he couldn’t tell what because everything had whited out and then with one last deep thrust he was coming, burying himself inside Sherlock.

 

Sherlock collapsed onto the floor and John followed him down, spent, sweaty and both trying to regain their breath. After a few moments, John pulled out of him and tied the condom off, putting it…somewhere, he couldn’t really be arsed to care at the moment. He laid back down on top of Sherlock, pressing a kiss to the dewy skin between his shoulder blades. “Satisfied?”

 

“For now.” 

 


End file.
